Silent
by smallish
Summary: Sasuke is defeated in more ways than one and silence is his revelation. [During Timeskip] OneShot.


**Disclaimer:** If I owned Naruto there would be a lot less moral debates and a lot more bondage.

Well happy holidays to you too. No official pairings, but maybe if you tilt your head just right... An experiment in sensory details. Not really supposed to make a whole lot of sense.

Silent

The sharp shadows predominated his mind and he could only register two things: he was in pain and someone was holding him.

He could not identify the pain; it seemed to be everywhere, existed in every fiber of his being and began to eat away at him. Consuming him.

The arms were wrapped around his shoulders and waist protectively and their cold presence stood out solidly in his mind.

He did not feel safe.

With a pitiable, unbecoming whine, he pushed away; some instinct demanding the distance, deeming it vital.

The arms wrapped around him tighter, possessively, nails digging into his skin, pressing; in his mind he saw the skin break, the blood flow, and the pain became unbearable.

The world became silent.

-

He became aware that someone was wrapping his wrist.

His mind felt thick and foggy, but he could feel the expert fingers binding up his arm (which he now realized hurt faintly) with bandages. Firmly, but not too tight. Aloof. Professional.

He tried to pretend that it was his mother, caring and gentle, but calloused fingertips brushed over his skin and he couldn't.

The world became silent.

-

His body burned.

The all-consuming ache, which had dulled, now came back, and he felt like his skin was melting off his bones. It was a struggle just to breath: he could feel his chest rise as he inhaled, filled his lungs. But he felt empty. Like he wasn't inhaling at all; that it was just a lie and he was _dying_, and he was just a shell.

Not real.

Empty.

An unbearably soothing breeze skittered across his skin and he wished it would disintegrate him; disassemble; take him with it.

The world became silent.

-

He could feel snakes coiling around him, cold and dry, wrapping around his legs and working their way up, up to his chest, his throat, squeezing, killing, all in such a detached, thoughtless manner, and he wanted to scream, tear them away, hide—

He didn't move.

A flash of red, and this time it wasn't _that man_, it was _him_. _Him!_ He was the one holding the sword; he was the one killing—he could feel the blood and he wanted to stop; he wanted to cry and beg for—forgiveness, for whatever would end all of this—

And he was free; awake; whatever it was, he wasn't sure, but somehow in his haze he managed to stumble to the neglected restroom and empty his stomach in the toilet, dry heave, then stumble back a few steps and allow his knees to give out.

His hands were shaking, he realized. He was cold. The thin clothing he was wearing seemed to chaff his skin roughly as he sat motionless for moments that lasted too long. His eyes trailed up the rough beige around his left wrist and arm, clashing tastelessly with his pale skin. The same bandages were around his midsection and he lifted his right hand; brushed his fingers over them slowly, feeling the rough texture, the dip and rise as they layered over each other.

With a startling sense of acuity, he realized he wanted to go home—had _been wanting_ to go home, but somehow he'd forgotten. Forgotten...

He stiffened when a bone-white hand dropped on his left shoulder, cold, familiar, possessive, nails digging into his skin, pressing. Almost hard enough to break the skin.

He closed his eyes and saw a vision of himself bleeding; felt the defeat all over again; the despair. Red eyes. Remembering.

_Foolish._

"Now you know you can't do this alone." The voice filled the empty room, dry and commanding. Controlling. Right.

"You need me. Without me, you will never be enough." A finger brushed over a spot on his neck and he felt need, a pull; a demanding sting that sent shivers of anticipation down his spine.

He dropped his head and didn't answer. That was enough; an unspoken _'I know,'_ whispering in the air.

He was crying and he didn't even realize it.

The world was silent and it was stifling.

**_End Silent_**


End file.
